Touch of Passion

by Susan Spencer Paul

  He didn’t want to do either, for if she knew the truth about the troubles she’d be even unhappier when she found herself left behind in London. But considering the gift she’d just given him, it seemed impossible to Kian not to give something back in turn.

  And so, first having tucked her comfortably and warmly beneath the sheets, and having taken a moment to clean both himself and the bed, Kian lay beside her, careful not to touch, and told her about the athanc.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I really don’t think you should, Kian,” Loris murmured, though not very convincingly. “I’m sure it’s terribly expensive.”

  “That’s no concern of yours,” Kian replied. “I would have bought you jewelry as a wedding present, but you appear to be drowning in a wealth of it already. Besides,” he added, watching her carefully, “you like it.”

  Which was stating the matter lightly, he thought with a small measure of amusement. Loris’s cinnamon gaze was fixed on the delicate music box as if it was the most wonderful, glorious object she’d ever beheld. She was entranced by the music and the tiny figures that either waltzed in pairs across a shining ballroom floor or sat as a group of musicians, playing upon miniature instruments.

  He wasn’t surprised by her childlike wonder; she had never had toys as a young girl and had owned so few pretty things in her life—certainly not at Tylluan, where their lives had been ruled far more by function than form—that even the simplest objects filled her with delight.

  Kian was going to make certain, starting now, that the feeling never dimmed.

  With a nod at the shopkeeper the music box was gently closed and whisked away, boxed and wrapped and presented to Loris with an elegant bow. She held it in an awestruck silence until Kian pried her fingers free and handed it to the footman to hold, along with the other parcels they’d collected during the afternoon.

  Kian had never realized how entertaining buying things for one’s wife could be, but Loris was terribly easy to please. She might have grown used to being showered with jewels and fancy gowns and the various other necessities that a lady of fashion required, but none of Kian’s relatives had thought to give her the simple items that a young woman who’d never had a childhood desired.

  He’d taken her into a toy shop—the first she’d ever seen in her life—and let her wander for as long as she pleased. They’d left with a china doll made and clothed in the image of Catherine the Great and a miniature version of Noah’s ark, complete with several pairs of brightly painted animals. These, Loris told him, weren’t really for her but for any future children they might one day have. Kian pretended agreement but privately imagined Loris putting a pond into the garden so that she could play with her new toy.

  Then he’d taken her to a bookshop, for she loved to read, particularly poetry, and had already gone through all the volumes in the library at Tylluan. She had actually kissed him upon leaving the store, bubbling over with happiness at possessing the latest works by Shelley and Keats.

  They had proceeded onward, purchasing a pretty new lamp for her bedchamber at Tylluan, a handsome tea service painted with a delicate pattern of red and yellow roses to replace the chipped and mismatched set at the castle, and a bottle of French perfume that smelled of honeysuckle.

  The music box had been the last purchase of the long day, and he had purposefully saved it for last. Loris had protested spending money on the other items they’d bought, regardless of how pleased she’d been when the buying had been done, but her protests regarding the music box were so weak that he knew how much she wanted it.

  “Thank you,” she said as he settled beside her in the carriage, and took his hand in both of hers to squeeze it. “I shall cherish it forever. It’s so very beautiful. Everything—all that you bought for me today—is wonderful.”

  “I’m glad if I’ve pleased you.”

  “But now,” she went on, “this must be the end of it. We cannot continue spending funds that are sorely needed at Tylluan. I feel terribly guilty, already, thinking of the sheep that must be replaced, and the repairs to the estate.”

  “It’s all right, Loris,” he assured her, turning his fingers to twine them with hers. “We will only be wed this once, and God alone knows when I shall next get you to London. I want the occasion to be memorable.”

  She smiled in a way that made his heart turn over. “I shall never forget this day, Kian, or your generosity. And the theater tonight—and then home to Tylluan before week’s end. Nothing could mar my happiness.”

  Her contented mood continued throughout the day and evening, and later, at the theater, when they were the object of a great deal of attention from the other theatergoers. So many men who had admired Loris before her abrupt marriage came by the Seymours’ box to offer their congratulations and kiss her hand that Kian began to grow irate.

  “How can you bear it?” he asked Niclas, who stood at the back of the box during the intermission, watching the parade of men courting attendance on both of their wives. “Look at the way that fellow’s gazing at Julia. I should think you’d want to bash his brains out.”

  Niclas sighed aloud. “You have not been wed long, Cousin, and haven’t yet learned that there is nothing so charming and alluring as a beautiful woman who is married. Only wait until the first ball that you and Lady Tylluan attend and you can scarce manage to get a dance with your own wife. This is nothing by comparison.”

  “Devil take it, I don’t want anyone else dancing with Loris. Certainly none of these fops. And I don’t want them slobbering all over her hand, either. I’m going to—”

  A hand came out from between the heavy velvet curtains at the back of the box to clamp down on Kian’s arm, holding him back. The next moment a body emerged to join the hand, perfectly attired and groomed.

  “Ah, there you are, cfender,” Lord Graymar said pleasantly. “Have I managed to stop a murder in the nick of time?”

  “Several,” Kian told him. “Look at those vultures, slavering over Loris and Julia.”

  “Quite understandable,” the earl replied. “A man must count himself a fool if he could not admire your lovely wives. Good evening, Niclas. I see that your head is a good deal more level than our young cousin’s.”

  “He’s but newly married,” Niclas replied. “I believe we must forbear with him until he realizes that threatening to relieve his wife’s many admirers of their manhood won’t particularly endear him to her.”

  “True,” Malachi said sagely. “Very true. The ladies do love to be admired, and a jealous husband spoils the pleasure. Apart from that, I fear Kian won’t have the time to fulfill his current desires, understandable as they may be. I must speak with you both. Urgently.”

  The curtains parted once more, and Tauron Cadmaran appeared. His expression was tense and impatient.

  “You’ve found them,” he said. “Good. I was beginning to worry.”

  Kian felt the muscles along the back of his shoulder tighten. “What are you doing here? If you think you’re going to join that pack of mongrels drooling on my wife’s hand you can think again.”

  “Dear heavens,” said Malachi, “must you insist upon using such descriptive phrases regarding your wife’s hand? It conjures up the most repulsive pictures, and she appears to be perfectly content and, what’s more, quite dry. Now, come out into the hall and we shall find a place more private for discussion.”

  “I’m not leaving Loris alone with these … these …”

  “I’ll stay,” Niclas promised, relaxing against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. “I perceive that this has something more to do with Kian than with me. You go with Malachi and Brecmont”—he nodded Kian toward the curtains—“and find out what’s amiss, and tell me afterward. I promise that no harm will come to Lady Tylluan.”

  Kian cast a glance back to where Loris was laughing at something that one of her admirers had said to her.

  “But—”

  “The first man who crosses the line goes over the bal
cony,” Niclas promised, and Kian comforted himself with the fact that his muscular cousin wouldn’t have any difficulty performing such a task.

  “Over the balcony,” Kian repeated firmly.

  “Straight over,” Niclas vowed.

  “Very well then.” Kian tugged at the ends of his sleeves and, casting a last worried glance back at Loris, followed Lord Graymar through the curtains.

  When Loris awoke the following afternoon, having slept through the morning, it was to find a folded letter lying on the pillow beside her head, with a single rose atop.

  She smiled, supposing it to be a love letter from Kian, and gently fingered the flower’s aromatic pink petals. What a wonderful day, and night, yesterday had been. She had enjoyed shopping before, but Kian made it far more pleasant, and the theater—she’d spent so much time talking with all the guests who made their way into the Seymours’ box that she could scarce remember what had been performed on the stage.

  And then afterward, in the early morning hours, when Kian had brought her home and escorted her up the stairs to her bedchamber … She smiled, thinking of it. He had sent Elen to bed and acted as Loris’s maid, slowly undressing her, bit by bit, careful not to touch too long, but long enough to leave her skin tingling with pleasure. He had kissed her as well, more deeply, a bit longer, always withdrawing before the pain could start. Then he’d let her undress him and they had taken turns touching. Loris hadn’t reached that same mindless pleasure that he had taken her to once before, that she took him to again, but it had been far more than she had hoped they would be able to share, at least until the curse was gone.

  And then Kian had lain beside Loris, as he had done the night before, and watched until she’d fallen to sleep. She had tried to remain awake, too, but the activities of the long day and night had left her too weary to compete with a man who appeared not to be tired at all. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of his lips upon the top of her head, against her hair, and his voice, low and murmuring, telling her that he loved her. Loris had slid into contented and pleasant dreams and slept.

  A knock came at the door and Jane’s capped head peeked in. “Ah, you’re awake, my lady,” she said pleasantly, pushing her way into the room. “I have a tray for you, fresh from the kitchen, with a nice hot cup of chocolate and some warm tarts. I hope you had a pleasant sleep?” She set the tray on the bed as Loris sat upright.

  “I did, thank you.” Loris pushed her unbraided hair out of her face before picking up the rose and letter and setting them on the tray. “Is Lord Tylluan yet abed?” She nodded toward the adjoining door.

  Jane’s expression dimmed slightly, and she gave her attention to arranging the small plates on the tray. “Oh no, my lady. His Lordship has already left. He was on his way quite early this morning.”

  “Was he?” Loris tilted her head questioningly. “That’s odd. I know he must have been weary from such a late evening. Did he say where he was going?” She imagined he had made arrangements to meet Niclas or Dyfed or even Lord Graymar for a ride in the park.

  “I’m afraid I can’t say, my lady,” Jane replied, and a look of unease crossed her features.

  Loris looked at the maid more closely. “Can’t say because you don’t know,” Loris queried, “or because you’ve been told not to?”

  Jane looked up at Loris at last, and she knew the answer without having to hear it.

  “Where has he gone, Jane?”

  The other woman straightened and took a step away from the bed. She shook her head regretfully.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Tylluan. I’m not to say. Shall I come back in a few minutes to help you dress?”

  Loris calmed herself. It wouldn’t be right to make Jane uncomfortable simply for fulfilling Kian’s instructions.

  “Yes. Take this tray away and then come back to me at once. I wish to dress as soon as possible.”

  She snatched up the missive Kian had left for her as Jane moved to do her bidding, and was reading it before the maid closed the chamber door.

  Darling Loris, it began, I know that you’ll be very angry when you know that I’ve returned to Tylluan—

  “Tylluan!”

  She stared at the letter in disbelief, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. He’d gone home without her?

  —but I want you to know as well that I’ve not broken my promise to you. I said that I would not stop you from returning to Tylluan, and I’ll not. Yet I cannot bring you back with me, for the danger is greater than before. It seems that Desdemona Caslin no longer controls the creature, which leads me to believe that Cadmaran has discovered her defection. I fear greatly for her safety, even for her life. Without her help the athanc has been left to run wild. An express arrived from Horas, detailing the damage that has been done in my absence. The beast has attacked with greater ferocity, and some of the villagers were fortunate to get away with their lives. Many have been wounded. I must leave at once to stop our troubles once and for all.

  But there is more. Tauron Cadmaran ran into Dyfed some hours following our wedding and, in an attempt to congratulate him upon his brother’s marriage, made the foolish error of relating Lord Llew’s intention to wed, a fact he had only just discovered, himself, having had word from Lord Llew about the impending nuptials. Dyfed asked to whom—

  “Oh no,” she murmured. “Oh, Dyfed.”

  —and Tauron unwittingly told him that it was Miss Caslin. Dyfed flew into a rage and left for Tylluan at once, vowing that he would get her away from Lord Llew by force, if he must. Of course, he must be stopped and brought to his senses. I’ll be fortunate if I manage to arrive only shortly before he does, even with the use of quick traveling. I imagine Dyfed’s ridden without stopping since leaving the day before yesterday, save to change horses, and I fear that he may head straight for Llew.

  “He’ll be tired,” Loris said, thinking with dismay of what Morcar Cadmaran might do to Dyfed, who would be defenseless against so powerful a wizard. “And out of his senses over that woman. You’ve got to find a way to stop him.”

  Malachi goes with me, and is bringing Tauron along as well. Brecmont has offered to help us thwart his cousin in the matter of the athanc, also to help us get Miss Caslin out of Castle Llew, if Malachi will in turn help him to escape England and the Cadmarans. I have my doubts about Tauron’s trustworthiness, for it’s rare that our kind will betray a family member, but Malachi believes him and I’m too pressed just now to argue the matter. I confess it will be far easier for Brecmont to gain access to Llew, and to garner Morcar’s trust.

  “You’re going to be surprised by Tauron,” Loris told him, despite his inability to hear the words. “He’s not like his cousin.”

  Stay in London, Loris. If you find a way to come to Tylluan, I’ll not turn you away. I told you that it belongs to you, that you have the right to come and go as you please, and that is even more true now than when I said the words. But don’t come. I cannot worry about the beast and you all at once. I’ll return for you as soon as the athanc has been dealt with.

  Stay in London and enjoy what’s left of the Season. Redecorate the town house and make a home of it. Niclas and Julia and your grandfather remain to take care of you and to lend you company. I’ll come as soon as I can.

  She lowered the letter to her lap and gazed at the fire across the room.

  Now what should she do? He had asked her, again, and in a manner that she found difficult to ignore, to stay in London and let him deal with the troubles alone. An obedient wife would … well, obey. But Loris wasn’t particularly obedient, and her heart told her that she should be at Tylluan. Kian needed her.

  She was still pondering the problem when Jane returned to help her dress and afterward as she paced in the study, letter in hand. She had reread it several times through, at turns worried and irate.

  How could Kian have left without telling her, without even waking her to explain himself and say good-bye? She recalled Malachi and Tauron appearing unexpectedly at the theater
and realized that Kian must have known well before they returned home that he would be sneaking out. He hadn’t wanted her to argue, of course, or to talk him into taking her with him. So he’d been a coward and left a letter and departed before dawn to make certain she’d be fully asleep.

  Stay in London … I cannot worry about the beast and you all at once.

  “Drat the man,” she murmured. “Why must he make the appeal so difficult to counter? I feel guilty even thinking of going.”

  She heard raised voices in the entry way and stopped pacing. Abercraf’s voice was easily recognizable, but the other one—quite loud and excited—was only vaguely familiar. Moving to open the door, she found Abercraf in the hallway, engaged in a heated conversation with a somewhat portly, older gentleman.

  “I must speak to Lord Tylluan at once,” the gentleman insisted. “At once!”

  “Professor Seabolt.” Loris moved into the hall. “Sir, what can be the matter?”

  “Lady Tylluan!” Professor Seabolt said with relief, removing his hat and shoving it into Abercraf’s hands. “My lady, forgive this unexpected visit, but I must speak with your husband. Please tell me if he’s at home or, if not, where he’s gone to.”

  “I’m sorry, Professor,” she said. “Kian has returned to Tylluan. His brother and Lord Graymar have gone as well.”

  She did not know Professor Seabolt well, having only met him twice, once at her come-out ball and once at her wedding breakfast, but she recognized his complete despair all the same.

  “Please come in”—she motioned toward the study’s open doorway—“and Abercraf will bring some tea. Perhaps there’s something I can do to help?”

  “No, no.” He shook his head. “I have to get word to them, somehow. And as quickly as possible. It is a matter most urgent, my lady.”

  Loris took a step nearer and looked at him very closely.

  “You’ve found the enchantment for the athanc, have you not, sir?”